From the eyes of a tribute
by Moe and Jack
Summary: Submit your own tribute to see how far they would get in the Hunger Games!
1. Chapter 1

A man sat in a white room, drumming his fingers on his chair with one hand and stroking his beard with the other. The man was staring out a window, looking over the Capitol. This was not any ordinary man. This was President Snow, the ruler of Panem. The next Hunger Games was coming up soon, and Snow was anxious to see which of the wretched children would die, and which would be the victor. It didn't matter him who won. He was just looking forward to seeing a good show with strange and exciting deaths.

Snow surveyed the Capitol from his window. Colorful figures walked together in groups towards their destinations. Snow smiled. He was lucky to live in such a beautiful place, as opposed to the horrid life that the people in the districts lived. Even District One was no match for the Capitol life. That was part of the reason that Snow loved the Hunger Games. The tributes get a taste of the glorious life that a person in the Capitol leads, then they no longer take up space in the districts when they die. Of course, it was still morbid, but that didn't really matter to Snow. You see, Snow had grown up watching the Hunger Games, and rather then hate it and be forced to watch it, Snow decided he might as well enjoy it. When he became president, the Hunger Games took up most of his life, through planning it, announcing it, watching it, and ending it. He spent so much time watching it, in fact, that he became a little insane.

Whenever Snow had the chance, he went up to his room with his goldfish, Stanley, and spent his time away from the Hunger Games playing a board game or Stanley Says. The Capitol people tried to stay away from him, for his blood-smelling breath was definetly not pleasant, and mostly because no one wanted to be known as the-one-who-is-seen-with-the-crazed-lunitic. Yes, the people of the Capitol all agreed that Snow was partially insane. So, when Snow sneaks up to his room to play games with his goldfish, no one thinks its at all strange, (after all, the Capitol people think that that must be what an insane person would do,) and no one bothers to come by to bring him back on track. That is, all except for the Head Gamemaker, Jackson Phillips.

Jackson Phillips used to live in the districts before he got the job as a Gamemaker. After a few years, Jackson finally got the promotion that he was working up for: Head Gamemaker. Jackson knew that he had just barely gotten the job as a Gamemaker, and it was practically a miracle that he got the promotion of Head Gamemaker, so he felt the need to do whatever President Snow wanted if he wanted to keep his job. He also knew that Snow was insane, which is why he tends to treat him like a little boy. That's basically all of the attention that Snow gets, (unless of course he speaks to other people first, in which case he gets all the attention he needs, being the President after all,) so Snow sometimes does act like a little child, since he was treated like one. Jackson Phillips does his best to do whatever Snow wants, whether it's playing Stanley Says, or getting him a cup of coffee.

**The tribute form and list of tributes is on my profile, and tributes will be submitted by PM ONLY! So check my profile every so often if you want to see how many tributes are submitted. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Stanley says touch your toes!" President Snow cried. Jackson Phillips bent down to touch his toes.

"Stanley says jump up and down! Stanley says 'say Snow is awesome!' Stanley says stop jumping! Stanley says-!"

"Umm, sir," Jackson interrupted. "Maybe we should get to planning what the arena will look like,"

"No! Stanley never said to do that!" Snow cried.

"Oh, you got me there sir…" Jackson said with a fake laugh.

"Stanley says-"

"Sir, we really need to start working on this year's Hunger Games,"

"Jackson!" Snow yelled. "You are being _very _disrespectful! How _savage_ of you!"

Jackson stared at Snow with astonishment. _Finally, I knocked some sense into him! _He thought. _He's becoming the grown man that he's supposed to! This is great! He's going to start doing everything he's supposed to like planning the Hunger-_

"Can't you see that Stanley and I are having some Psycho- to- Goldfish bonding time?"

_And there goes the civilized man that he was 2 seconds ago, _Jackson thought.

"Now, if you're not going to participate in Stanley Says, then you'd better leave." Snow scolded. Jackson sighed.

"Fine. But you'd better think about planning the Hunger Games sometime soon, or else there will be no Hunger Games this year." With that, Jackson left the room.

"You'd better plan the Hunger Games or else there will be no Hunger Games this year! Blah, blah, blah!" Snow mimicked in a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like Jackson's. "Well I'll show him. I'm going to make the best Hunger Games that there has ever been! Wait- is that showing him, or me proving his point?"

Stanley flopped in his bowl.

"You're right. I do look good in a suit," Snow replied. And with that, Snow sat down to begin planning.

"Stanley!" Snow called. "Be a dear and call up Jackson,"

Stanley looked at him.

"Oh I forgot. I'm such a fool. You, being a fish, don't know where Jackson's yoga class is. Duh!" Snow cried, as clueless as always. "I'll call him myself."

Snow approached the door. "JACKSON SOMETHING PHILLIPS GET YOUR BUTT UP HERE IF YOU WANT TO-"

Snow was interrupted by Jackson throwing open the door, panting.

"Yes, I want to keep my job." He replied, finishing the sentence that Snow had already started.

"What do you mean? I was going to say, 'get your butt up here if you want to get a sundae.' That's all." Snow said, confused.

"Oh, well, never mind then…" Jackson mumbled.

"Anyway, the point of your visit up to my office is to see the wonderful creation that is this year's Hunger Games arena!" Snow cried.

Jackson stared at the president with amazement. "You mean, you actually made it?"

"Yes, yes I did. Now, I was thinking that we start them off by coming up through the tube things and the first thing that they see is a field of lollipops and sugar canes!" Snow began.

Jackson sighed.

"And then, instead of the giant metal thing-"

"Cornucopia you mean?" Jackson interrupted. Snow glared at him.

"Yes. Anyways, instead of seeing the cornucopia, they see a giant-" Snow paused. "Unicorn! Instead of a cornucopia, there's a unicorn! And then-"

"NO! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! This is where you go wrong! There are no unicorns in the Hunger Games!" Jackson cried.

"Well then, Mr. Smarty pants, what do you suggest?"

"Don't worry, sir," Jackson replied slyly, "I've got it all under control. I have a plan."


	3. Chapter 3

Phillip paced the floor in front of Snow's office, wondering if going in and pestering the old man was the best way to get him to decide on what the arena would look like. It was truly the Head Gamemaker's job to decide on the arena, but Snow was the controlly-type and liked to take charge, or at least think he was in charge.

"Phillip, are you _ever _going to come in, or are you just going to keep pacing for another hour?" Snow called from behind the door.

A perplexed Phillip slowly opened the large door. The first thing that he saw was a giant poster-board with a detailed drawing of a piece of land. There was a large object in the center; looking closer at it, Phillip saw that it was indeed a cornucopia.

"Sir, is this- is this an _arena?"_

"An arena?" Snow asked. "I don't know. Why don't you ask Stanley? He's the one who drew it, after all."

Phillip stared at the goldfish.

"Um, sure, but what is the plan for the arena?"

"Again, I'm not sure!" Snow exclaimed. "Why don't you step outside for a bit while Stanley and I talk about it."

Phillip found himself once again wondering why it was that he worked for a lunatic.

"Sure, sir.."

"Ah, Stanley. The weirdo Phillip wants to know about your drawing." Snow said to Stanley.

Several bubbles emerged from Stanley's mouth.

"So it _is _an arena! I thought it was modern art, interesting," Snow mused. "What do you have planned?"

More bubbles.

"I don't know what he means about planning either." Snow huffed. "So, what does it do then?"

Another stream of bubbles escaped Stanley's small mouth.

"So that's what he means by planning! Oh…" Snow replied. "What's that? Four seasons? Which seasons? Paprika? Salt? Talk to me buddy!"

Bubbles escaped from Stanley at a more rapid pace.

"Oh, seasons! Not seasonings! Like Spring, Summer, Winter, and Fall? Oh, that's awesome."

More bubbles.

"Right. Different mutts for different seasons! I like your thinking. I'll call in Phillip."

Phillip burst in the room at the sound of his name.

"I like it!" He cried. "It's brilliant! I'll start immediately!"

"No!" Snow yelled. "Not so fast! Stanley has to write my speech for Panem!"

Phillip face-palmed himself.

"Sir, Stanley-er- can do it by himself. You need to come with me."

"What are we doing?" Snow asked.

"We have work to do."

"What kind of work?"

"Sir, I'm trying to make a dramatic page break."

"Oh." Snow muttered.

"Ok, we've got work to do."

"I'm still confused. What kind of work?"

"Sir! Dramatic page break!"  
"Oh, right. We've got work to do."

~o0o~


End file.
